The gap between rhetoric and reality, the developed and developing worlds, is cruelly illustrated by the huge promises and meagre results of successive global gatherings on providing funds to help less developed countries adapt to the changing climate.

On Tuesday, Farm-Africa, one of the Guardian's partners in the Katine project, helped launch Climate Frontline, a collection of African voices reflecting on how their climate has already changed, and how they are adapting to it. It is full of practical ideas – new ways of making liquid compost from animal droppings, or growing maize in pits where moisture is better retained, to name just two.

But unless Copenhagen sets in train a colossal effort to cut greenhouse gas emissions, many African communities are going to have to do much more than get smart about soil improvement. Reforestation and irrigation, improved seeds, technology and education are all part of the answer to saving the continent's agricultural potential.

At the Climate Frontline launch at Westminster, Farm-Africa's chief executive, Christie Peacock, warned that despite the experience of generations of farmers in adapting to harsh conditions, "the pace of change is stepping up", while the reaction of the major polluters remained "depressingly poor".

The failure of the rainy season is already bringing instability back to some parts of the Teso region of north-east Uganda, in which Katine is found. East of Katine, the Karamojong – whose region is even worse affected – have returned to cattle rustling to replace stock they have lost to drought.

Sub-Saharan Africa is only one of four global regions that will feel the impact of climate change most severely. Island states, coastal areas and the great Asian river deltas are all likely to experience devastating loss of land.

That is why, as long ago as 2001, the protocol agreed at Kyoto included a plan for an adaptation fund. The best feature about it was that it was to be funded by a levy on "clean development mechanism project activities" - that is, it was to depend on funding on the rate at which developed countries reduce their emissions. It was to have an independent source of income rather than relying on vulnerable national pledges of donations.

Sadly, it has taken until now to agree the governance and rules under which it would operate. And although they are hailed as a triumph for a new way of doing business, with developing countries having a majority on the board and the final say on the disbursement of funds, it is still waiting for a steady revenue stream.

Meanwhile other funds have proliferated. The Overseas Development Institute sponsors a site that lists dozens of them from the UN, the World Bank, the EU and some individual countries. As the Guardian reported last month, there is one common feature of the multilateral funds, like the UN's special climate change fund and its less developed countries' fund, and others like the World Bank's loan-based strategic climate fund: the money pledged by individual countries has not been delivered.

Yet the predicted cost of adaptation and mitigation is rising steeply. As the IIED reported in August, it is now estimated at something approaching $150bn a year.

In the likely absence of any deal on targets for emissions reductions at Copenhagen next month, all attention is going to focus on finding a way of guaranteeing that there are reliable, predictable, additional and equitable funds available to the countries that pollute the least and will suffer the effects of global warming the most.

What is needed is an almost unprecedented shift of resources from north to south. It is going to take something like a revolution to get it.